


Burning

by purplebass



Category: The Last Hours Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-12
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-20 11:21:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30004110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplebass/pseuds/purplebass
Summary: Post Chain of Iron, so it might be spoilery a little.
Relationships: Alastair Carstairs/Thomas Lightwood
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76
Collections: Thomastair





	Burning

Thomas was ecstatic to be alone, but he had to admit that he was a little intimidated. The killer had been caught, that much was true, but it didn’t mean that the streets of London couldn’t harbor more dangers. He still had to keep his guard up, and be vigil. You never knew what you could find around the corner. Thomas was alert. His hand went on the hilt of the knife by his belt when he heard footsteps. It was probably a mundane, despite the hour, but one could never be sure.

The noise disappeared as it came, and he sighed. Thinking about that reminded him about _him_. He was patrolling because he didn’t want to think about what had happened in the sanctuary. He had loved every second of it, but then Alastair had decided for him and didn’t give them a chance. Thomas was angry, but not at Alastair. His anger was not directed at the beautiful man with eyes the color of opal, but at himself. He wished he had told him then, that he didn’t agree. That he didn’t care what other people thought, he wanted to be with him.

Thomas squeezed his hands, and kicked at a stone nearby. He would gladly punch the wall, but he knew better than to do that. He felt helpless, and he didn’t know what to do. He believed that it was already important that he had been forward with Alastair, but that he had also let too much precious time pass. And now… now he missed him. He never realized that Alastair had been following him in order to keep him safe during his lonely patrol. If things had been different…

He stopped abruptly, and turned. He was sure that someone was behind him. He heard uneven steps, as if whoever was walking behind him was stumbling, and then a cough. Perhaps it was really a demon. People didn’t usually walk around in the dead of the night, unless they were shadowhunters. Or they didn’t have better things to do.

“ _You_ ,” he said.

Alastair staggered as he walked, keeping his hand to the wall. His face fell when Thomas acknowledged him. “ _You_ ,” he answered back, coughing. “Never learn.”

Thomas wanted to argue, and say that it wasn’t his business how he decided to conduct his life. He had, after all, decided that he didn’t want to be in it. But he didn’t. He reached Alastair, who was unable to stand still. He barely glanced at Thomas, and he looked like he would faint any minute.

“Alastair _joon_ ,” he said with urgence, worry etching his voice. “Are you hurt?”

Alastair gazed up at Thomas, who was towering over him like a marble statue. Imposing, but welcoming. A piece of art to stare at, that you longed to touch but remembered you could not. It wasn’t possible. He was frowning. “I’m completely, utterly,” he whimpered, “fine.”

Thomas couldn’t help but sigh. How long was he going to tell him lies? Because he didn’t believe that he had been honest, the last time they saw each other after the fight at the Institute. He didn’t care what he would think of him. His hand couldn’t help but reach Alastair’s neck, then his cheek. His thumb lingered on the side of his jaw for longer than he had intended, but he couldn’t withdraw his hand. He saw the way Alastair was trying to make him believe all of this didn’t bother him. And he knew better.

“Keep telling that to yourself,” he answered coolly, grabbing Alastair and placing his arm behind his back, his hand secured on his hip so he wouldn’t fall.

Alastair tried to protest and disentangle himself from Thomas’ grasp, but he didn’t let him. And the truth was that he didn’t want to. “Where are we going,” he asked faintly, as Thomas helped him stand as they walked.

“To my flat,” Thomas replied. “It is closer to this street,” he explained casually. “And you need to lie down.”

“You could just drop me home, and don’t bother, Tom.”

“No,” Thomas answered sharply, indicating that he would not argue with him over this. That stunned Alastair to silence.

No one spoke for the rest of the way to Thomas’ flat. He could feel that Alastair wasn’t feeling good, because he hadn’t bitten back any retort after he firmly stated where they were going. Thomas hoped this wasn’t going to be a train wreck, because his heart was already shattered as it was, but he couldn’t help it. _I’m only doing it because he’s ill_ , he told himself.

They crossed the threshold, and he helped Alastair on the armchair by the small grate. He would light up the fire soon, but he wanted to check on him first. He took his coat off and placed it on the other armchair. Alastair had closed his eyes, apparently sleeping. Thomas crossed the room and got to him. He touched his forehead with the back of his hand.

“You’re burning up,” Thomas murmured with concern, and went to the kitchen to fetch a cold towel before the other could say anything, and placed it on his forehead with care.

“Thomas,” Alastair said. “Thomas, _stop_.”

“You’ll never get someone else help you, won’t you,” Thomas sighed in frustration, touching Alastair’s cheeks with his hand. He wasn’t just trying to make his temperature go down with his cold hands. He had longed to touch Alastair’s face, and would use this occasion to do it. Who knew when –

“Your hands are too cold, by the angel!” Alastair exclaimed, surprising Thomas.

He stopped, realizing that he probably exaggerated. “I’m sorry,” he said honestly, but he could tell Alastair was not mad. He managed a smile.

“What are you sorry for? I’m the one down with,” he coughed. “A fever.”

“Did you know that you got a cold?” Thomas wondered, bewildered. He wouldn’t get mad. He wouldn’t.

Alastair sighed. “I figured as much when I started staggering after you,” he admitted, glancing away.

“You shouldn’t have followed me.”

“I wasn’t following you,” he retorted. Thomas raised an eyebrow. “I can’t do anything right,” he said after a while. He looked defeated. Tired. Guilty. And he didn’t want him to feel like that.

“That’s bollocks, and you know it,” he said gravelly.

“I don’t know anything anymore, Tom,” he replied, and his heart broke again. _For him._

“Then let me remind you,” Thomas offered, barely registering the shock on Alastair face as he knelt down on the carpet and grabbed his face to give him a kiss that was not so chaste.

Alastair was burning. Literally and figuratively. Thomas knew that he shouldn’t do that, that he shouldn’t kiss Alastair with such ferment when he was sick. He was aware that he’d get hotter, but he couldn’t control himself. He couldn’t control his hands as they grabbed Alastair’s silky hair, and then clung to the back of his neck, of his shoulders. He didn’t care that he’d probably come down with the flu too. In that moment, they were the only thing that mattered in his private space.

“Thomas,” Alastair chided, out of breath, their foreheads touching. They were scorching hot.

“You can’t decide for me, Alastair. You can’t,” he muttered softly, desperately. “I don’t care what anybody says about me and you. About _us_ ,” he said, staring in Alastair’s black eyes to make the point get to him. “They’ll have to deal with it. Everyone will have to deal with it. And if they don’t,” he paused, “then it’s their problem.”

Alastair’s eyes widened. No one had stood up for him like that before. “Your friends are important for you.”

“And I know that I’m important for them,” he replied confidently. “You are also important to me,” he revealed, his cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“Is that right,” Alastair wondered quietly, meeting Thomas’ eyes.

“Love is never wrong.”

Alastair stared at the man with whom he thought he didn’t have any future anymore, unable to say anything coherent. Thomas waited expectantly, with bright eyes. Alastair realized in that instant that he didn’t have to say anything, that actions spoke louder than words. So, he kissed Thomas, who understood the magnitude of that gesture. Alastair had just given him access to his heart, and he wouldn’t chance to lose it.


End file.
